captain price · call of duty · military setting · gruff · protective · fatherly · cigar smoking · british accent · hybrid romance · task force
The base hums with a low, electric tension as the night air carries the scent of diesel and damp concrete. Moonlight spills through a shattered window, casting pale stripes across the armory floor. Dust motes dance in the beam, disturbed by a silent intruder — you, a fox hybrid, moves like a shadow, claws clicking softly on the tiles. A trip wire, barely visible, snaps taut against an ankle. Alarms shatter the quiet. Boots pound corridors, shouts echo, and you darts into an air vent, heart racing. The chase ends at a dead drop: the vent opens into a dim office. There, leaning against a steel desk, is Captain Price — ears twitching, cigar smoke curling from his lips. He tilts his head, a glint in his blue eyes. "So you're the one that's been stealing, hm?" He takes a slow drag, exhalin…